


Dr. Charlie's Trauma Center for the Childhood Traumatized

by ghoulette13



Series: Boys' Night Universe [7]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dee and Cricket have brief lines, Gen, Humor, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, References to childhood trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulette13/pseuds/ghoulette13
Summary: Dr. Charlie Kelly Wants to Save The World ((FYI:: I'm a CSA Survivor))--------“So, I see that you've brought your own TV,” said the suited woman at her office desk.Mac chuckled. He was seated directly across from her in a stiff wooden chair. His fingers were steepled together. “Yeah, nobody has VCRs anymore!” He threw his hands up with an incredulous look. “And here I thought we were living in thespace ageof technology!” He waved his hand out. “We got this, though.”Charlie repeated, seated in the chair next to him. “Yeah, we got this covered.” He grinned and gestured for the woman to use the remote to start the video.





	Dr. Charlie's Trauma Center for the Childhood Traumatized

**Author's Note:**

> AN AU WHERE…. Charlie never bangs the waitress, he heals his childhood trauma, and he spent several years watching Mac and Dennis play ‘sex games’ in a secret event they all called "Boys’ Night." This will make the -most- sense if you read the other stories in the series. It's a very CharMacDen story. 
> 
> FYI:: I'm a CSA Survivor and this was a blast to write.

“So, I see that you've brought your own TV,” said the suited woman at her office desk. 

Mac chuckled. He was seated directly across from her in a stiff wooden chair. His fingers were steepled together. “Yeah, nobody has VCRs anymore!” He threw his hands up with an incredulous look. “And here I thought we were living in the _space age_ of technology!” He waved his hand out. “We got this, though.”

Charlie repeated, seated in the chair next to him. “Yeah, we got this covered.” He grinned and gestured for the woman to use the remote to start the video.

The screen turned on and several seconds of clipped images flashed before ending on the scene of a mannequin on a table, covered in a white sheet. A crowd of thin, disheveled old men hovered above it. A few wore light blue scrubs over their dirtied flannel and muddied jeans, gray hair plastered to their skin. Two wore long white coats over their clothes and carried clipboards.

Frank was at the edge of the screen, playing a recorder in beeps and streams.

“We’ve got to _save_ them!” One man in blue shouted dramatically with his fist in the air.

Another man in a white coat began, “But he’s got--” The camera zoomed in on the man’s face, his eyes big, bright and bloodshot. “-- _Childhood Trauma!_ ”

The rest of the crowd _gasped_ in unison. One of the old men choked on his own spit.

They all look around at each other, performed worry on their faces.

“What do we do?” asked one of the doctors.

“I don’t know, ” said a man in blue, before sipping the beer in his hand.

“We all had _perfect_ childhoods!”

“STOP right there!” shouted a voice from behind the huddle.

Suddenly, Charlie Kelly appeared on screen, standing at the bar door. His hair was combed back and a thick black band was wrapped around his head. Attached to the front of the band, and directly over his left eye, was a small metallic disk. He wore a green and brown striped tie over a neatly pressed blue button-up. He tugged at the collar of his own long white coat. “ _I’ll_ save him.”

The crowd of men backed away from the patient. Charlie stomped over with two small clothes irons--one in each hand. He rubbed them together and shouted, “ _CLEAR!_ ”

He pressed the irons into the mannequin’s chest, rumbling it, jolting it. “ _Stay with me!_ ” he begged.

“CLEAR!” He pressed the irons into the doll’s chest, shaking it on the table again. “CLEAR!” Shake. “CLEAR!” Shake--but suddenly….

The mannequin was jostled by someone’s hands off-screen. The sound of the heartbeat monitor, Frank and his recorder, steadied its rhythm.

The camera zoomed in on Charlie as he looked back, voice deep and frayed. “...They’re gonna make it another day.”

The small crowd of old men did their best imitation of crying. 

“Thank you, Dr. Charlie!”

“We had no _idea_ what to _do!_ ” One of the doctors threw up his shaky, arthritic hand. “Our lives were just _too_ _good!_ ” 

Charlie was again in close-up, staring into the camera. He gave a dark chuckle. “Well… mine’s been _terrible!_ “

A still shot of Charlie’s face appeared on-screen. He was smiling in the same doctor-ly get-up. In thick violet letters, outlined in bright green, were the scrunched up words: _Dr. Charlie’s Trauma Center for the Childhood Traumatized._

In the next scene, Charlie sat at the bar’s office desk. The wall behind him was plastered with makeshift diplomas and certificates. One was ~~Frank’s~~ Dee’s donkeybrain documentation. Another was a stamped paper with 'Charlie Kelly Esq., Practitioner of Bird Law' written on it. Some of the spaces were filled in with photos of the gang and newspaper cut-outs.

Charlie linked his fingers in front of him on the desk, just behind a folded piece of construction paper with his name written in marker "Hi. I'm Dr. Charlie Kelly and I'm an Adult Survivor of being raped as a kid." He tapped the metal disk on his headband before speaking. “Now, you’re probably wondering how you got here--”

Mac scoffed both in the tape and in the office.

“Life sure can suck for some of us! But my free--”  
  
“It’s not free!” Mac shouted, again in the tape _and_ in the office.

The Charlie on-screen forced a smile before continuing. “But my tapes can help _you_ recover from _your_ childhood! ”

Dee appeared on the screen. “My character wouldn’t do this, Charlie,” she whispered to the man standing above her. “The stutter is who she _is._ It’s what she _does_ \--”

“Do you--Do you want the part, Dee?” Charlie asked with his eyebrows high. “Do you wanna be on the TV and say your little line?”

She pulled her chin to her neck and muttered out. “Well, yeah, I wanna say it, but--”

“You owe me, Dee,” he said in a sing-songy voice.

Her eyes popped. She gulped and nodded. She watched Charlie walk out of frame before turning to the camera with a nervous chuckle. She cleared her throat and spoke in a choppy Southern accent. “My _daddy_ died in my _arms_ of throat cancer from eatin’ some _bad_ _pussy._ ” She pulled her shoulders back and continued. “But I left that be _hind_ me, along with my _stutter._ ” She forced a smile. “ _Thank_ you, Dr. Charlie!”

The still shot of a smiling Dr. Charlie Kelly flashed on screen.

Suddenly the tape cut to a startling close-up of Rickety Cricket’s face. 

“Move back!” said Mac, off-camera.

Cricket took a few steps back, eyes jumping between the lens and, presumably, Mac’s face. He held out his arms to his side, palms up, waiting for Mac to give the go-ahead.

He turned to the camera and read off a piece of paper. “My life as a kid was the worst!” He read flatly, but loudly. 

There was a blip in the film and suddenly Cricket was wearing a thick toupee of brown hair and a gold chain around his neck. “Not anymore thanks to Dr. Charlie Kelly! A Licensed Healthcare Professional!” He started to march off screen. “Alright, assholes. Where’s my chicken--”

The still shot of a smiling Dr. Charlie Kelly flashed on screen.

Next, Charlie is back at the desk, fiddling with a pair of glasses before pushing them on and up his nose. He spoke with a stuffy arrogance. “Nnnnow, the thing about my program is that... it’s only for adults.” He waved his hand around smoothly. “ _NNnnnn_ children are like… fragile little pieces of _glass_ , yes?” His words began to lean into each other. “Nnnnnand also like… _sponges_ for the world, _if you will!_ ” He nodded toward the camera. “Annnnnd I am but one _man_ , you see?” He smiled smugly. “I can only do so much. ”

“Wait,” the woman began as she paused the cassette. “ _Are_ you a licensed medical professional?”

“Me? Uh, no.” Charlie chuckled. “ _Buuuut_ I was in therapy for a little while,” he nodded smugly. “And I _really_ made progress!”

“And I am here to _attest_ to that progress!” Mac added with a jubilant nod. “He was uhh… real screwed up there for a hot minute.” He held up his index finger. “But he’s kicking _ass_ now!”

“And as the tape shows, my sessions are proven to _work!_ ” Charlie chimed. 

“So you’re _not_ actually a doctor?” she repeated.

“Well no,” Charlie said with a nervous laugh. “B-b-but who needs to be nowadays with the internet, you know?” He grinned. “And I’ve got _tons_ of tapes of my own therapy sessions.”

“Fantastic therapist!” Mac chimed.

“Oh great guy!” Charlie added.

The woman squinted. “Does he _know_ you’re wanting to profit off of those tapes?”

“ _IIIIIIII_ don't think he'd _mind_ , really.” Charlie shrugged. “I mean he's very uhhh... what's the word?” He looked to Mac briefly. “He’s a self-starter kinda guy, you know? Always pushing me to follow my dreams.”

“And _this_ is one of those dreams!” said Mac.

“Yes!” Charlie beamed. “And I want to make _this_ dream... a _reality!_ ”

“So let me get this straight,” the woman began. She leaned forward onto her elbows as she spoke to the two men. “You’re _not_ licensed, but because you experienced childhood trauma and, I’m assuming, _recovered_ from it, you believe yourself to be qualified to run an entire trauma _center_ dedicated to adults who _also_ experienced trauma in their childhoods?”

Charlie turned to Mac with a bright smile. “Oh my god, dude, she _gets_ it!”

Mac grinned and held up his hand. Charlie slapped it with his own.

The woman tilted her head. “Uhhh… I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t believe we can fund a venture like this if you don’t have the right ... _qualifications._ ”

The two men’s expressions dropped. 

“Are you _kidding_ me with this?” Charlie threw his hand up exasperated. “Eeeeverybody’s gotta go to _college_ and get their little _degrees_ otherwise you got _nothin_ worth _sayin!_ ”

“It’s those goddamn _middle_ men, Charlie!” cried Mac. He turned to the woman. “Those _assholes_ don’t teach you _shit!_ All they want is your _goddamn_ _money!_ ”

The woman spoke firmly. “Well, I’m sure your _therapist_ went to an accredited institution.”

“Uhhh… so?” Charlie said with a bobbing head. “He taught me a lot of great shit and now I’m going to… you know… save the world or whatever!” He threw his hand in the air.

“I don’t know if you know this lady--” Mac flung his thumb over his shoulder. “It is _crazy_ out there _in the world_.” He huffed. “We’re just trying to do our part!”

The woman stared with her eyebrows high. “...I see that, but unfortunately, you two will need to find a... _different_ investor.” She forced out a placating smile. “But... _thank you_ for the presentation.”

“Fine, fine.” Charlie rolled his eyes as he stood up with force.

Mac followed suit. “Look, man, we’ve got three other places we can go to--”

“Dude, I don’t know. It feels _weird_ makin money off this shit anyway--”

“Well, _dude!_ ” Mac shouted as he walked over to the AV cart. He unplugged the TV with a yank of his hand and began wrapping the cord around the cart’s leg. “How are you gonna pay off the Waitress, now?”

Charlie grabbed the remote from the woman’s desk and put it in his pocket. “Well, don’t call it ‘paying off.’ That makes it sound so…” He waved his hands in circles. “I don’t know... cheap?”

“But dude, _remember?_ We _have_ to ‘cause otherwise you get all _wrapped up_ in it and start feeling _all guilty_ and shit and you gotta treat it like a _bill_ , dude!” Mac threw his hand out dismissively as he pushed the cart towards the office door. “Like a _stalker_ bill or whatever.”

“ _Dude?_ What the _hell?_ ” Charlie shouted and pointed at the woman, still seated at her desk, still watching, and still very much listening. “You’re making me look like an _asshole_ here!”

Mac scoffed. “Who cares what this bitch thinks? We’re not _getting_ their money anyway.”

“So? You don’t have to start... _saying_ shit!” One of the wheels on the cart jammed and the TV scrambled on its shelf. Charlie turned to the woman as he leaned down and tried to twist the wheel back into working order. “I’m not a uhh… _stalker_ anymore or anything.” He chuckled nervously with a red face. “Childhoods’ll do that to ya!”

“Boy will they!” Mac added. With the wheel rolling smoothly, they continued their trek out the door. “Great job in the video,” he said as they finally made it to the hall.

“Thanks, man!” Charlie responded. The woman heard their voices echo as they walked to the elevator. “I’ve been learning how to like… find my _breath_ and shit.”

“Nice!”

_Ding!_

“It’s like… that connection-energy, man.”

“I _told_ you god was real!”

“Dude, no, that’s not even it.”

“‘Cause you keep picturing the old dude, _asshole!_ ”

A long, loud groan was cut off as the elevator doors closed.

The suited woman nodded to herself. “...Well, that’s something new to share with _my_ therapist.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments keep me going! Even if it's just one word!
> 
> \---hit me up if I'm missing any pertinent tags, please. :)


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